Mateo couldn't remember the last time he was happy. Maybe he never was. But he didn't have much time to dwell on that while mopping the floors of the seventh-most depressing office building in the city. The place was a concrete grave: yellowed walls, an elevator that screamed every time it opened, and a rusted sign out front that read: "INNOVATECH INTERNATIONAL. Where your ideas go to die."
Every morning, Mateo sat at the same cubicle, with the same cracked coffee mug, and listened to the same screaming from his boss, Mr. Arístides—a balding man with a greasy mustache and the temperament of a raccoon with rabies.
"Mateo! You've got five minutes to hand in that report or I'll staple your face to your desk!" he'd yell, launching folders like paper missiles of hate.
To make things worse, his only close coworker, Carla, used him as a driver, errand boy, and—somehow—charged him to be her "friend." She once made him pay for her date with another guy. Mateo was, in short, the NPC of his own life.
But that day—his 27th birthday—everything changed.
Or rather, ended.
He was walking out of the building, dragging his feet, when he saw the old company sign swaying more than usual in the wind. He didn't think much of it. He didn't know that the final screw holding it up had already given up—just like him.
A creak. A shout. A loud thunk.
And then, darkness.
He woke up spitting sand.
Literally.
The heat clung to him like an aggressive blanket. The sky was a surreal shade of blue, the sun burned like it held a personal grudge, and in front of him floated... something purple, with the face of a smug influencer and the voice of a drama queen.
"So let me get this straight," Mateo said, wiping sweat from his forehead. "I died, and you dumped me in a goddamn desert? What the hell?! Is this payback for never recycling?!"
"Relax, darling," said the purple orb in a voice straight out of a bad soap opera. "You were already useless in your world. I'm giving you a second chance. You could, I don't know, redeem yourself. Or die horribly. Flip a coin!"
"Who—or what—are you?"
"I'm Reil. The most powerful System in the universe. Also the most fabulous. And, unfortunately for you, your new permanent roommate. Welcome to planet Xianzhara, Azahran continent. Everything here wants to kill you. Hope you packed sunscreen."
Mateo looked around. Endless dunes. A jagged mountain on the horizon. Something giant wriggling under the sand nearby. Fantastic.
"And I'm supposed to survive here?"
"Sure! Though with your stats, you'd have better luck starting a foot pics business. Here, take a look."
A floating screen appeared in front of Mateo. The stats were... soul-crushing.
Name: Mateo
Age: 27 (Happy birthday, loser)
Talent: Trash
Cultivation: Nonexistent
Skills: None (What did you expect?)
Titles:
SSS-Class Coward: Even a magical hamster would pity you.
Face Like an Evil Ogre: Your reflection files for emotional damage.
System's Chosen One: Congrats! You now have a stalker. It's me.
Stats:
Strength: 5
Agility: 10
Endurance: 10
Vitality: 20
Intelligence: 80
HP: 120/120
Mana: 0/0
Mateo blinked.
"Is this a damn joke? 'Talent: Trash'? 'Face like an ogre'?"
"Hey, don't shoot the messenger," Reil said, twirling mid-air. "Though if you did shoot me, you'd probably miss."
"Aren't systems supposed to help the protagonist?!"
"Of course! I'm here to help you realize how pathetic you are!" Reil beamed. "But fine, I've got responsibilities. Like giving you missions."
Another window appeared, flashing bright red letters that screamed "you're doomed."
MAIN QUEST:
Build a village. Right here. From scratch.
TIME LIMIT: 2 years.
REWARD: A first-grade cultivation core.
"A what now?"
"A cultivation core, sweetie. Everyone needs one to not die a horrible death. Some are born with one. Others, like you, get a pity version. If you live long enough."
Mateo fell to his knees.
"How am I supposed to build a village in the middle of a damn desert?! I don't even know how to hold a shovel! I don't have water, or tools, or even—"
"But you do have sand, sunlight, and me!" Reil chirped. "What more could a man want?"
"A rope. To hang myself from a cactus."
"Such drama. I think I'm starting to like you."
Mateo stared into the distance. Something was moving in the sand. Something big.
Reil turned with a grin that mixed cuteness and sadism.
"What's the matter, darling? Falling for your fabulous new system?"
Mateo scowled.
"No. But if I survive this, I'm putting you in a blender."
And so began the misadventure of a talentless mortal in a world where weakness meant death, and the only guide he had was a sassy ball of cosmic cruelty. Mateo took his first step.
Straight into a cactus.